


Hereditary

by InsaneSociopath



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Actual Father Chris, Biological AU, I hope it's alright, Implied dubcon, In which I attempt to rewrite a well know cliche, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Pike's Cadet days, Tarsus IV, implication only, mentor Archer, no explicit non con, no other non-con, unwillingness on both accounts, utterly clueless Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneSociopath/pseuds/InsaneSociopath
Summary: Jim's not nearly as much a Kirk he thinks he his.He is however, 100% like his father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm thinking this should have 3 chapters when finished? We'll see...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh good lord, I'm just proof reading this on my phone and there's so many mistakes and typos D:

He doesn’t remember coming here.

* * *

_Pike! Get down!_

Pike? Who’s Pike? Is he Pike?

* * *

_“I order you to stand down Pike! Drop the probe!”_

_“……No.”_

* * *

His head swims in the darkness and all he is aware of is that there is pain.

He screams, but no-one can hear him from inside his own mind.

* * *

* * *

“Captain’s log, stardate 2232.32. Cadet Pike is still unconscious following possession by a mysterious entity while on the surface of the planet designated Theta-VI at the furthest edge of the beta sector of our galaxy. Lieutenant Kirk is still refusing to disclose the entirety of her injuries to the medical staff incurred during the same incident, and Doctor Horta refuses to subject her to more than a basic scan against her will. As all preliminary scans are indicating no serious injuries, I am disinclined to issue any order that states the medical checks must be carried out. I hope she will seek out any such care if she needs it on her own. In the meantime, Doctor Horta has declared her fit for light duty.”

The Captain pauses in her monologue and Chris silently tries to shout his thoughts.

_I’m not unconscious!_

_Please! I’m not unconscious!_

But his mouth refuses to move and his eyes refuse to open.

“It has been three days since we beamed the landing party back aboard the USS Tanebar,” the Captain continues, sounding resigned. “The other Lieutenant Kirk is already hinting that he’d be interested in a transfer because of this mess with his wife. I’ve heard through the grapevine that there’s about to be an opening on the Kelvin for a First Officer. I’m considering recommending Kirk for the position, but I don’t want to accidently push him away if he doesn’t actually want to transfer; he’s a good officer and I don’t want to lose him, even to what will technically be a promotion. Hell, both Kirks are good officers and I don’t want to lose either of them.”

_Goddammit please! I can hear you! I’m awake!_

“I just wish I knew what exactly happened down on the planet. But with young Pike still in a coma, Kirk refusing to give details beyond stating that Pike unwillingly attacked her, and the other witnesses to the incident KIA… I fear that my wish is one made in vain.”

 _I what…?_ Chris stutters inside his own mind? _What happened, what did I do!? Someone please! I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m-!_

Against his will, his awareness fades into nothingness once again.

* * *

His vision is blurry and everything hurts.

“That’s it Christopher,” the Doctor encourages gently. “Slowly, slowly now.”

Carefully, he sucks an ice chip in through his chapped lips.

“As soon as you get some moisture down that parched throat of yours, I’ll regen your face a little more lad,” Horta continues, helping Chris lower his head back to the support pillow of the biobed.

His eyelids feel heavy again, and his left foot jerks involuntary as a nerve twinges across his back.

“Yeah, I’m afraid your nervous system probably isn’t too happy with you at the moment kiddo,” Horta chuckles ruefully. “You suffered a near complete neuro-overload thanks to whatever xenobeastie decided to take your body for a joy ride. But all your scans are clear now. Who, or whatever it was that hijacked you is long gone, so don’t you be worrying.”

“What happened?” he tries to croak, “Don’t ‘member. Hurt- hurt Kirk?”

He coughs harshly, the effort of forming words straining his vocal chords.

“I didn’t think you would remember boyo,” the Doctor smiles weakly, “but perhaps that’s for the best hey? No one likes knowing they unwillingly hurt a fellow crewmember, let alone knowing all the details of the deed.”

“Don’ let me fall ‘sleep ‘gain,” he slurs, silently raging against his rebellious body.

“No can do kiddo. But I promise I’ll fix you up some more while you’re snoozing hey? Lets see if I can stop these involuntary muscle spasms and then maybe we’ll see about all those nail scratches and cuts.”

“Please- Don’ wonna slee-”

His words fade into silence as a cool hand brushes his hair back from his eyes.

* * *

“Cadet Pike,” his Captain smiles warmly, “good to see you up and about finally.”

“I’m not sure staggering ten metres to the bathroom counts sir,” he grunts as he flops facedown back onto his biobed. “Please forgive my lack of formality and manners, but I think someone just set all my limbs on fire.”

“Yes, the CMO did tell me you were still in some considerable pain. I think we can forgo rank etiquette given the circumstances.”

“What can I do for you then sir?” Chris asks after cautiously rolling onto his back and shuffling to sit upright.

“I need an official report on the Theta incident from you,” she sighs, picking a PADD up off of a nearby stainless steel med-cart. “Now I know you’ve already stated that you remember nothing except a whole lot of agony after stepping into the mouth of the cave, and that Doctor Horta has confirmed the medical viability of that statement, but I need both a signed written report and a vocal log to send to Command.”

Chris holds back a grown and lets his head sink down into his pillows further.

“Alright, hit me with it,” he mumbles after a second. “What do I have to say?”

“Well let’s start with your name, rank and the current stardate,” she smirks at him, stating the damn obvious. “And then you describe everything you _do_ remember from the point of beam down until you woke up here.”

She pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“And stop looking at me like that young man, before I forbid Command from giving you the commendation they seem to think you deserve. Brat.”

Chris splutters, red faced and embarrassed the entire way through making his report.

* * *

* * *

“She’s avoiding me,” he sulks to his bunkmate Jordy when they finally stumble in after their shift in Engineering. “Wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence, let alone look me in the eyes.”

“Well by all accounts you did attack her and beat her senseless,” Jordy muses tiredly, throwing his oil stained redshirt down the recycler hatch smoothly.

“But I don’t remember it happening! And she must have beat me up quite soundly in return if the number of bruises and broken bones I had when I woke up in Medbay was any indication.”

“You don’t remember, but she clearly does. Give her some space, she’s allowed to be traumatised by whatever you did, even if it wasn’t _actually you_ who did it.”

“Yeah that’s what her scary-ass husband said when I tried to give my apology to him instead,” Chris mumbles as he climbs into the top bunk in their narrow, cramped quarters.

“Well it’s less than a week until we’re back dirtside, and then you probably won’t see either of them again.” 

He pauses, and peers up at Chris through the bunk railings with all four of his eyes.

“Well, unless you have the misfortune to be posted to the same ship as them after Graduation next year.

“Here’s to hoping that doesn’t happen Jordy my lad,” Chris toasts with a sock before throwing it to the floor. “Here’s to hoping.

* * *

* * *

With the extra credit he earned from his voluntary extra ship posting and unexpected subsequent commendation, Chris has a high enough Academy score to graduate with a ‘Fleet MA degree just two months later. 

He does one month of entirely uneventful and thoroughly boring grunt work on Starbase VIII, and then decides he regrets everything and applies for the Academy’s Grad school. Maybe with a PhD under his belt, he could avoid all the pointless busywork he was faced with for the next year or two and get straight to the fun stuff aboard a Starship.

* * *

“You want to research and study Military Tactics?” Commodore Nogura asks him from across his desk.

“Erm. Yes sir, I do sir,” Chris answers, trying not to quake in his standard issue boots.

“But your undergraduate focus was joint Engineering, and xeno-cultures and sociology.”

“Erm. Yes sir, it was sir.”

“Rather an odd combination I have to say,” the well-known older man states neutrally. Chris hopes the look he’s being given is only disapproving in his imagination.

“So I’ve been told,” Chris states shakily, clearing his throat at the end. “But I found I had an affinity for culture and diplomacy which is why I chose to Major in it, and well… I’ve always had a strong personal interest in electronics and mathematics.”

“Yes, your file states your father is a local electrician. I suppose you helped him with his business before signing on to Starfleet. Well no matter, your scores, Academy reports, and commendations are more than good enough for you to be accepted into our Doctoral School.”

Chris doesn’t even try to hide his sigh of relief.

“However,” the Commodore continues with a pointed look. “If you’re adamant that you want to get into tactics then you’re going to have take a handful of remedial courses with the undergraduates currently on Command track. And you’re going to have to have one hell of an academic advisor who can not only spare the time to personally tutor you to get you up to speed, but can supervise your project _as well_.”

Chris swallows and feels his nerves re-emerge with a vengeance. 

“Thankfully for you Pike, I have the perfect candidate in mind. I just have to bully him into accepting you first.”

“Sir?”

“I hope you like dogs Pike, and I hope you don’t mind swimming and water polo.”

* * *

If he thought being summoned to the famous Commodore Nogura’s office for a short meeting was frightening, it has not a patch on being summoned to Admiral Archer’s house for afternoon tea.

* * *

“You’re a skinny rat kid,” Archer grunts at him as he pushes a tea tray into his hands and points out at the table on the back patio expectantly. 

“You’re one to talk,” Chris scoffs automatically, eying the Admiral up and down pointedly and glancing at several of the old holopics hanging on the Admiral’s kitchen walls.

Archer raises one unimpressed eyebrow.

Chris experiences a moment of pure panic, regrets ever developing the ability to speak, and turns tail and runs out onto the patio.

* * *

* * *

“Jon I might actually die,” he huffs six months later as he practically crawls into Archer’s house after a double session of Command PT followed by an hour of advanced hand to hand. 

“Well at least you’re not a skinny rat any more lad,” Archer smirks down at him. “You still have a hell of a mouth on you, but at least you won’t blow over in a stiff breeze. Finally got some muscle tone to you!”

“Please just kill me now and spare me the pain,” he mock sobs, actually crawling onto Archer’s couch and lying bonelessly on his front.

“Nope. Not when I’ve spent all this effort on you. Now come on and sit up. We need to start talking about potential projects now that you’ve got most of the basics down.”

“I think I changed my mind,” he grunts while dragging himself back upright. “I wonna go back to my pointless Starbase posting and file away service reports every day for the rest of my life.”

“Tough, you’re stuck with me now. So come and read this Paper on Tosylov defensive flight manoeuvres.”

* * *

He’s in the officer’s indoor swimming pool letting Archer lob water polo balls at him repeatedly when he first hears. Another couple of Officers slide into the pool beside him, both whispering intently with grave looks on their faces. 

He can immediately tell that something important has just happened. 

“Jon…” he says quietly to his mentor, skulling up to him rapidly. “I think we need to get out and go check the holofeeds and your Comm.”

Archer stares at him intently, and then nods with a serious expression.

Together they swim to the pool edge and clamber out into the changing rooms.

* * *

“Are you sure I should come with you sir?” 

“Someone’s going to have to study this potentially major fuckup kid. Why not you?”

“Because there’s undoubtedly a whole bunch of considerably more qualified individuals who will also be interested?”

“And I will beat them off with a stick by hand if I have to kid.”

“Sir….”

“You’ve earned this kid. You’ve worked yourself half to death these last sixth months. Yes, the loss of the Kelvin and the loss of her Captains in incredibly tragic, but it’s also your opportunity. Reach out and grab it with both hands Christopher; come to this emergency response meeting with me.”

* * *

This… task that Archer has set him, this project. It feels impossible. 

Every time he reads through the survivor’s reports his heart catches in his throat.

He’s beginning to develop an intense dislike for thunderstorms. 

“There’s just not enough data,” he groans again, dropping his head onto Archer’s kitchen table. “I can’t reconstruct the strafing pattern that Kirk programmed in without more informational input. I’ve reprogrammed the simulator three times from scratch, and rewired it twice now trying to compensate, and it’s just not going to work.”

“So go out and get more data,” Archer shrugs before biting into another slice off toast.

“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t exactly go visit the Kelvin and look at the databanks can I?”

“You’re a social studies major son. Put that sarcastic tongue of yours to use and go interview the survivors.”

* * *

An engineering Commander, three Ensigns, one of the pilots, A geologist, a botanist, and two of the medical nurses all respond to his request for interviews positively. 

It might not be enough to get him what he needs, but at the very least he’ll get some added witness accounts for the survivor reports section of his thesis.

* * *

“Okay, I’ve got three more potential patterns for the programmed defensive manoeuvres, and I think I’ve accounted for all Lieutenant Kirk’s decisions and movements right up until the moment of impact… On a preliminary basis anyway.”

Archer strides over and leans heavily on his cane to peer over his shoulder at the small Sim projector.

“Looks good kid. So tell me your conclusions so far.”

“Well, as far as I can tell, Captain Robau took the only decision available to him and bought his crew a few minutes to prepare for evacuation. And then Kirk did nearly everything by the book, and what he didn’t _should_ be in the book.”

“So you’re saying he acted exactly like a Captain should have done?”

Chris pauses and considers everything he’s learnt over the last eighteen months of fevered study.

“Yeah, I think I am sir. He _was_ a Captain when the Kelvin went down.”

“Then make a bold statement and refer to him as such in your work right from the start. Own that conclusion.”

“Captain George Kirk of the USS Kelvin. 12 minutes and 800 lives. I dare you all to do better.”

“Good strong final statement. Now get to writing the rest of the report.”

* * *

“Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just move in and save yourself the effort of crawling to your dorm room every night kid.”

“Don’t want to impose,” Chris mutters back, head in yet another research paper and yet another mug of coffee steaming beside him.

“I hate to break it to you kid, but you sort of already are. You’re here from 7am until gone 10pm for god’s sake. Every day!”

“Sorry,” he mutters back, flicking the page over and staring at the deployment diagrams. He frowns when he works out what’s wrong with them and then knocks back his mug of steaming coffee in one go.

“That’s it. You are going up to my spare room, you are going to sleep for at least six hours, and then tomorrow morning we are going to talk about your caffeine addiction.”

“Huh?” he replies eloquently, already scanning through the next paragraph of the paper.

* * *

“I worked out what’s been bothering me,” Chris grins manically as he’s dragged through the dog park on the edge of Campus by Archer.

“Your inability to feed yourself regularly right now perhaps?”

“What? No, with my project. I’m twenty-three, I can totally feed myself Jon.”

“Tell that to the last three meals I forced down your throat.”

“No but listen, the only anomaly in the whole scenario is the Comm call Kirk connect through to one of the shuttles in that last minute. It just doesn’t make sense. There was no tactical advantage.”

Archer stops dead beside him and gazes at him penetratingly.

“I was wondering when you were going to start asking about that call.”

Chris gazes right back.

“So you’ve heard a recording of it then? Or seen a transcript or something? Is it personal? Does it have information I could use in it? If it’s the latter is there any way I could-”

“Chris. Christopher,” Archer cuts across him. “You’re a good lad, a hard worker, and most importantly, your heart is always in the right place where people are concerned. So I will do you a deal.”

“Go on…” he says slowly when Archer only continues watching him with a serious expression in silence.

“You get personal permission from the individual on the other end of that call for me to do so, and I will let you listen to the recording of that Comm transmission.”

Chris has an awful feeling he was right about the personal nature of that call. And an even worse one about who it was to.

“If you want to hear it kid, you go ask Winona Kirk if it’s alright for you to do so first.”

* * *

He stands on the doorstep of the farmhouse in Iowa and shakes.

Maybe eventually he’ll summon the courage to actually knock.

* * *

Winona Kirk peers down at him and her expression changes from one of blank apathy to one of absolute rage.

“You can’t have him, he’s not yours,” she spits.

And then the door is slammed in his face.

* * *

Not knowing what else to do, he carefully tears a single sheet out of the precious, antiquated paper notebook that he keeps in his inner jacket pocket, and pushes it carefully through the old-fashioned letter box on the old wooden door.

Then he shuffles over to sit on the driveway fence and settles in to wait.

He just hopes his handwriting is legible enough.

* * *

“You’re not here about what happened on the Tanebar?” Winona asks nervously, head poking around the door.

“Mrs Kirk,” Chris answers just as anxiously, “I don’t even remember anything about what happened on the Tanebar and Theta VI, and as it would appear that neither of us want me to find out what I did, I’m not going to ask about it.”

“Alright,” she says shakily after several long seconds, “I guess you can come in then. But you leave the second I tell you to, whether you got the information you’re after or not.”

Chris nods agreeably, and hurriedly pulls his notes up on his PADD as she opens the door all the way and gestures him in.

* * *

“No.” she states coldly and with no room for argument in her voice. 

Chris’ heart sinks, but he keeps his face neutral.

“That’s okay Ma’am. I shall leave you to your day then,” he smiles kindly, already rising to his feet to take his leave.

She looks at him confused.

“What? You’re not going to argue? To demand I change my mind?”

He pauses in the doorframe through to the hallway.

“Mrs Kirk. I came here to ask permission and I did. I did not come here to force the answer I want out of you. You are allowed to give and withhold your permission as you wish and I will not try to override that right.”

She gives him a sad smile and flicks her blonde hair out of her eyes.

“George was always telling me you were a good lad really,” she sighs. “He said I should stop blaming you for what wasn’t your fault, what could never be your fault. But I’m afraid I’m not as kind and forgiving as you and my George, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget what you did. Lack of free will or memory notwithstanding. So I’ll consider your request Ensign Pike, and I’ll let you know in a few days. But don’t be angry if my answer remains no.”

Chris nods silently once more and then slides silently to the front door.

* * *

There’s a mop of slightly curly blonde hair dressed in red dungarees crawling over the roof of his rented aircar when he finishes walking back to the end of the Kirk’s driveway.

“Aren’t you a little young to be out here on your own wee man?” Chris chuckles affectionately, trying to disguise his worry. 

“I’m James T. Kirk!” the small bundle of suddenly exclaims, vibrant grin suddenly appearing as he shoots upright, “I’m two whole years old and I’m gonna be a starship Captain jus’ like my daddy!”

“Yes…” Says Chris slowly, staring into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen outside of a mirror, “I think perhaps you might be one day. Now why don’t you come here so we go find your mom?”

He carefully picks the small boy up off of the roof and sits him snugly on his hip, arms wrapping around his own neck immediately.

And for some reason, the weight of him sat there giggling just feels right to Chris.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scrap that, make it four chapters...

Clutching his bleeding nose and squinting in a vain attempt to reduce the sharp stabbing pain throbbing around his left eye socket, Chris staggers back down the drive to his car once more and wonders what the fuck just happened.

* * *

“I don’t know Jon,” he groans when he finally gets back to San Fran several hours later. “The kid was climbing on my car just off the road, so I carried him back to the house and when Mrs Kirk opened the front door after I knocked, she took one look at me, shrieked in rage, literally pulled little James out of my arms and then rammed her elbow into my face.”

“But she was alright with you when you left before?”

“Yeah, I think so. We were perfectly polite and civil to one another when I said my goodbyes initially, and I’m pretty sure she was seriously considering letting me read a transcript at the very least. And then when I took James back because I was worried about his safety, she went mental. My ears were still ringing from being clobbered, but I’m pretty sure she was screeching ‘get the hell off of my property and don’t ever come back’ while I was trying to stagger back to my feet.”

Archer sighs and shakes his head consolingly.

“She probably sees James as the last piece of George she’ll ever get to hold son, and so she’s excessively over protective of him. Grief amplified motherly instincts.”

“Well, she was shouting about how James was hers and hers alone the first time I knocked on the door, so I guess that makes sense. She was probably worried that the ‘Fleet were going to try and take him away from her or some such nonsense.”

“Given the hell the media and press put her through after the Kelvin survivors arrived back on Earth, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was genuinely afraid that might happen,” Archer grimaces. “Now please tell me you at least stopped and iced that nose of yours before driving back here; you look like you ran into a railbus.”

“I may have… forgone that level of self-care,” Chris admits sheepishly, entirely unsurprised when Archer then audibly growls at him and grabs his collar to haul him to the downstairs bathroom where his first aid kit lives.

* * *

* * *

Archer hugs him as soon as they leave his Viva.

“Knew you could do it kid,” the old man tells him gruffly. “A clear pass with only minor Minors. Congratulations Doctor Pike, I couldn’t be more proud.”

Chris tries to garble something appreciative and grateful sounding, but he’s still in too much shock to properly articulate a sentence.

He did it

He finished his PhD.

He has a _Doctorate_ in advanced military space tactics. 

“So where am I taking you for a drink then kid?” Archer chuckles, steering him down the corridor towards the building’s turbolifts. “And you need to call your parents and brother to tell them the good news.”

“Oh god, my dad is going to scream like an overexcited teenage girl across the connection at me,” Chris stammers, gripping his hands together when he notices they’ve started shaking. “And then demand I go home for the weekend so he can make sure my photo goes in the town’s tabloid broadcasts. Oh god my whole family’s going to be so insufferably proud.”

“Too damn right they will be,” Archer grins, clapping him on the back.

* * *

“Duuuuude, how’s space?” he slurs into his Comm, trying to stab the Vid function on.

“About the same since the last time you asked me yesterday Chris,” Dax chuckles, clearly realising how inebriated he is. 

“You are my bes’ friend ever and I’m soooo jealous you got promoted to- to Lieutenant before me.”

“I’m ninety-percent sure you’re about to get promoted above me anyway Christo, so I wouldn’t worry. As of today, you’re a doctor! Pretty sure with your track record that that means Lieutenant-Commander stripes will be coming your way rapidly.”

“I’m _a_ doctor but not a _medical_ Doctor,” Chris grins sloppily. “Keep having to tell all the people in the bar the difference. Hey Dax? You should come to the bar and buy me a drink because I’m a doctor now and Archer says I deserve all the free booze.”

“I think the Admiral has probably bought you one from me already Pike,” Dax laughs, his antenna bobbing mirthfully on the flickery Vid feed. “But speaking of doctors of the actual medical variety, I wish I could introduce you to the new guy in the Medbay. He’s driving the CMO nuts. Word on the decks is that New Guy is a better surgeon than Dr. Le’Ore, and Le’Ore doesn’t like that. Thinks his position is at risk.”

“Don’ care unless he’s hot,” Chris smiles lopsidedly. “Is he hot?”

“How would I know? You humans all look the same!”

“Do not!” Chris mock gasps.

“Yeah whatever. Here, you look him up and decide for yourself. His name is… hang on, I’ve got it here somewhere… Doctor Philip J. Boyce, currently posted -obviously- to the USS Bradford.”

“Send it to me ‘n text format,” he hiccups, “’Cause drunk me is never gonna remember that an’ then sober me will be very, very sad.”

“Done and done. Now I can see Admiral Archer coming towards you over your shoulder, so promise you’ll take better care of yourself now your Thesis is finished, and I’ll talk to you later.”

“Noooo Daxxy, don’t go!”

The Comm call cuts out seconds after Dax winks at him. Chris whines in displeasure and drops the PADD onto the bar, followed swiftly by his head.

* * *

Chris sighs as he glances down at his list of Minors once again.

The only one that’s not a mere formatting issue, is the lack of data from the Comm call between the Kirks.

“It’s been another two years,” he grumbles quietly to himself. “What are my chances that she’s changed her mind and will let me listen to the recording now?”

He huffs and pushes his chair back, striding over the cracked mirror hanging on the wall beside his dorms’ door.

“Who are you kidding Christopher?” he mutters, staring himself in the eyes. “She hates you for something you don’t even remember and will never find out about. She even won’t give you the time of day.”

He cocks his head to one side and flexes his shoulder muscles, quite well developed after three years of Admiral Jonathon Archer’s idea of care and support.

“I hope James is alright. He was kinda cute for a baby. Even if he did earn me a broken nose.”

* * *

* * *

“Lieutenant Commander Pike, Welcome aboard the USS Bradbury. I was surprised when you put in a request for my ship, but I’m more than glad to have you.”

“Thank-you sir,” Chris nods politely, shaking the offered hand.

“Now, I’ve asked the Chief Tactical Officer, Commander Dandro to come to the bridge for introductions, but until he gets here, how about you tell me some more about this infamous Doctorate Thesis of yours; I hear you’ve been asked to convert it to journal paper format for publishing?”

* * *

“Just need to get Jordy to transfer to here too now and then the dream team will be reassembled!” Dax happily babbles, swinging upside down from his sleep bar. 

“I’m not sure I could handle you both in my old age,” Chris comments dryly from his bunk. He flicks another page of his engineering holomag over and then stretches his legs out once again. 

“You’re nearly half my age dork,” Dax snorts, flipping upwards and grasping his bar with both hands.

“And as a human, I also mature twice as fast. Species comparably, you’re younger than me now. So as my junior in both age and rank, I command you to show me where the shipboard gymnasium is; my legs are gonna cramp if I don’t move soon.”

“This is a blatant abuse of power,” Dax deadpans, blinking at him. But he does drop to his feet and lead the way out of the door with a grin.

* * *

“See! I told you he was hot!”

“You told me no such thing Dax.”

“I did! You were just so drunk you don’t remember.”

“Keep it down man, or he’ll hear us.”

“Too late…”

Chris and Dax scarper back up the corridor before the young Doctor can do more than spot them peering through the Medbay door at him.

* * *

* * *

“Gandy!” Chris screams, “Ensign Gandy! Wake up!”

He shakes the lifeless body in denial, heedless of the way it makes the young girl’s blood spurt across his hands and on to his stomach.

“Hey hey,” a soft voice says quietly, arms coming gently around his chest and pulling him slowly but firmly away.

“She’s dead!” Chris sobs. “She’s not even eighteen and she’s dead!”

“I know Commander, I know,” Dr Boyce says quietly, carefully turning him around while still shuffling backwards. 

“I tried, I tried, but she’s dead!”

“Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up and put to bed. Le’Ore has got everything else here under control.”

* * *

“That the first time you’ve lost someone Commander?” Boyce asks him sympathetically when he finally pads out of the shower room, still dripping but in his standard issue sleep wear.

“No,” he grunts as he chucks his towel towards the recycler. “But it’s the first time that that someone was directly under my command, and died directly as a consequence of my orders. And it’s definitely the first time I’ve lost someone underage.”

“Ah,” the doctor says shortly, understanding clear in his voice.

“Ah indeed,” Chris mutters as he stalks past Boyce and towards the door. “Oh and by the way,” he adds, pausing for a second with a bitter frown. “I’m not a Commander, so I suggest you double check the handbook on rank stripes Doc.”

* * *

* * *

Chris has never felt more betrayed.

“What do you mean, you’re both transferring?” he stutters, staring at his two best friends despondently.

“We both got offered promotions,” Jordy shrugs with his top arms. “I’m going to Starbase II as a Lieutenant to help with the fusion core upgrades. And then Dax was asked to join the same team as a Lieutenant Commander.”

“I couldn’t turn the offer down,” Dax mutters guiltily, “I’m going to be the diplomacy 2IC, making sure the visiting civilians get along alright with the ‘Fleet workers who’ll be there.”

“So- so you’re not even going your separate ways,” Chris frowns angrily, his disbelief increasing. He stabs a chunk of purple tomato viciously with his fork and wonders why everyone is always leaving him behind. “It’s just me you’re ditching without warning. We promised we wouldn’t do that to each other!”

“Chris,” Jordy says shortly. “We were otherwise friendless underaged Cadets at the Academy. It’s been over eight years since we graduated and our careers are not running as parallel as we thought they would. Time to leave the childhood dreams behind and move on. None of us are as socially incompetent as we used to be; I’m sure you can make new friends now.”

“Besides,” Dax adds tactlessly, “You actually ditched us first to go get a PhD.”

“But I came back! Just like I always planned too! Like I promised I would!”

“And maybe you shouldn’t have,” Jordy growls, his face flushing lilac in anger. “Face it Pike, you’re being stifled on this ship. There’s no upwards movement available to you, and you’re stuck tailing behind Dandro when you should be in charge. If you’d gone to another ship, you could have been a first officer by now. At least.”

“Well maybe I’ll transfer too then!” Chris shouts, headless of everyone now staring at them.

“First sensible thing you’ve said all year dork!” Jordy snaps. “Come on Dax, we need to head to the transporter room.”

Chris stands devastated as Jordy stalks out of the canteen without another word.

Dax however halts for a second once he’s stepped out in the corridor, nervously looking back over his shoulder.

“See you around Pike? You could Comm us some time and we’ll arrange to go for drinks yeah?”

Chris sighs in resignation, most of his anger evaporating suddenly, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

“Yes I guess Draxxy. See you around.”

The door slides shut between them, cutting off the last of his emotionless and toneless words.

* * *

“And so that’s why you’re my only friend now Doc.”

“Except Archer.”

“Who doesn’t count because he’s more like my scary army grandpa than a friend.”

“I’m pretty sure he still counts.”

“Phil. Shut up and give me more whiskey.”

“Aye aye Not-Commander, aye”

“Dickhead.”

* * *

* * *

The USS Yorktown is considerably more interesting than the Bradbury could ever have hoped to be. 

It probably helps that Chris is actually Tactical Officer now, and thus no longer gets bossed around by anyone other than Captain April and his XO, Commander Te’Twion.

And well, by Phil of course, who is yet to stop celebrating being a CMO now.

Even though it’s been eighteen months since he transferred onboard to take over the position.

* * *

“Have I told you ladies,” Phil grins lecherously at the group fawning over him at the bar, “about how Commander Pike is my favourite person in the whole world?”

“Goddammit Doc,” Chris groans, “Please stop talking. You’ve embarrassed me enough this shore leave.”

“Oh but he is,” Phil continues enthusing, shitting-eating grin now out in full force. “Forget the part where he Comms me out of the blue two years ago to tell me he’s got me the _perfect_ job lined up for me when I hadn’t seen or heard from him for six months, but let me also tell you all about the things this guy can do with his mouth. _Sinful,_ I tell you.

“Philip Jacobi Boyce, shut the fuck up right now.”

“He’s such a nerd, you wouldn’t believe,” Phil carries on cheerily. “He actually enjoys mathematics and solves equations for _fun,_ the heathen. Buuuuut, that also means he knows exactly the right angle and the number of times to stick his tongue-”

“Right! That’s it, we’re leaving!”

Chris doesn’t wait to see if Phil is following him.

* * *

(An utter mistake, that’s what Chris tells himself every single damn day.)

(It was an utter mistake to let Phil’s puppy eyes get to him.)

(Goddammit they agreed no emotional attachments, and he’s not sure he can keep that promise much longer.)

* * *

* * *

“Sir, there’s an emergency transmission coming from Starfleet Command. Priority One, immediate attention to the Captain and the Conn.”

“Send it to the Captain’s data screen,” Chris frowns, swivelling in the Chair to face back towards the forward viewscreen. “And then ping Captain April and get him up here.”

“Yes Commander,” Lieutenant Sivorlagu responds crisply.

* * *

As soon as Chris has finished handing the Conn back over to the Captain, he asks to be dismissed from the bridge under the pretence of informing Medbay of the crisis situation they’re about to warp into.

In reality, he just wants to run to Phil for some reassurance. 

“4000 people straight up murdered,” he rasps. “And god knows how many more slowly starving to death or being hunted.”

“Jesus wept,” Phil shudders, looking at the briefing packet with haunted eyes.

“Phil. The Kirk boys are down on that planet, both of them. Their names are on the colony registration list. Federation media broadcasters have already found out and they’re going crazy. They’re calling the two kids “the Kelvin Boys” and romanticising the loss of their father, demanding that we start having annual memorial days in January to mark the tragedy, and generally screeching the StarFleet is an utter failure of an organisation. Those boys will never get a moment of peace once we get them and everyone else of that damn planet if they’re not stopped soon.”

“…If they’re even still alive,” Phil mutters hollowly. “We don’t know whether they were in the four thousand or not.”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Chris grimaces, sitting down on the edge of a biobed and wringing his hands. “God, I only met James for all of about 10 minutes and that was nine years ago. I’ve never even glimpsed George Junior, but I still feel like I should have paid more attention to those boys.”

“We’ll do what we can Christopher love. We’ll do what we can and pray that it’ll be enough.”

* * *

Chris never wants to come back to this planet ever again.

As soon as they’ve finished evacuating everyone, he’s going to propose they torch the entire place.

* * *

He stands side by side with Captain April on the Bridge of the USS Yorktown and watches as the last of the rescue ships depart Tarsus IV’s orbital range.

“Over six thousand colonists dead,” the exhausted looking Captain whispers. “Adults, seniors, _Children._ People of all species and races and genders, all massacred for the sake of one mad man’s insane ideologies. Those who managed to escape the execution, hunted down mercilessly like rabid animals or left to starve and die of malnutrition.”

Chris remains silent, knowing that no words will ever be enough.

“They had children strung up outside the councillor building. Hanging on crosses by their wrists, arms dislocated. Beaten. Bloody. Whipped. I had to cut them down. I had to climb those damn poles myself and free them from the most inhumane torture I’ve ever seen.”

April pauses and takes a deep, shuddery breath.

“And all because they had the audacity to survive a senseless kill order.”

He pauses again, and somehow an even deeper weariness drags his features down further.

“I can’t do this Pike,” he rumbles, trembling minutely beside him. “We have one job now, and that’s to transport the madman in our Brigg back to Earth for a Federation trial. But I can’t do it. If I’m in charge, the bastard won’t make it back alive to face judgement.”

Chris turns to look at his Captain, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Commander Christopher Pike, let it be recorded on the logs that I am relieving myself of command on the grounds of emotional comprise. As First Officer, you are requested to take control of this ship as Acting Captain until such a time as I am deemed stable enough to resume my duties.”

“Sir…” Chris breathes quietly, voice full of sorrow. April smiles back self depreciatingly.

“As a personal final request, I’d appreciate it if you would accompany back to my quarters before assuming your new post my friend.”

“Of course I will,” Chris nods sadly before lapsing back into silence.

There are still no words that will ever be enough.

* * *

* * *

He reads it in the San Francisco Evening News of all places.

_Governor Kodos convicted on all counts thanks to testimony by twelve-year old James T. Kirk, who was almost a victim of the Governor’s tragic attempted genocide on Tarsus IV. Three young friends, also members of the colony, accompanied the young man in giving testimony. Following the trial’s conclusion, young Kirk only had this to say:_

_“I did it for my brother. His memory deserves better.”_

Chris throws the PADD across the room onto his bed in horror, grabs a bottle of whiskey from his stash under the desk, and leaves to go find Phil across Campus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise they're be a lot of Jim in the next one :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, fuck this,” Chris grumbles to Phil over the open Comm call. “I’m gonna find this bar and have a pint or two. If I stare at this paperwork any longer, I’m actually going to die of boredom.”

“Alright sweetheart,” Phil smiles fondly. “But remember you have to pilot tomorrow, so _only_ have the one or two okay?”

“Yes _mom,”_ Chris drawls with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be back at the Academy before noon tomorrow all being well. I’ll comm you before we land so that you can meet us at the hanger and take this grumpy medical genius off my hands.”

“I still don’t know why you can’t take him to the Medical Dean yourself, but okay honey.”

“Because she likes you better than me, that’s why.”

“I doubt that somehow you charmer, but I love you too much to say no. Now get up and go enjoy yourself and I’ll talk to you later.”

“Love you too dear. Bye!”

Phil smiles once more and the Vid link winks off, leaving Chris alone in his small, undecorated Officer’s bunk room.

Stretching, he stands up, pulls on his uniform jacket on, and then goes to find someone willing to drop him off at the edge of town.

* * *

With utterly weary resignation, he shoves the door into the bar open, puts his fingers to his mouth, and whistles as loud as he can.

The fight stops dead.

“Everybody out,” he’s says as sternly as he can into the silence. 

There’s a moment when nobody moves, and then the first of the cadets are sliding past him. The rest of the bar’s patrons start to follow swiftly, regardless of whether they’re Starfleet or not, at a rate which means that pretty soon the only people left in the room will be the barman, Chris himself, and the unfortunate individual draped backwards over a low table.

“You okay son?” he asks as he moves forward, letting the last of the crowd out of the door behind him.

“You can whistle really loud,” comes the slurred replied from between bloodied teeth.

“Yeah, my father taught me how- Oh my god James!?”

Kirk looks at him dazedly and confused, and Chris once again curses his inability to keep his mouth shut.

“Do I know you man?”

“No. Yes. Sort of,” Chris fumbles, “We met once, when you were young, I recognise your eyes because it’s eerily like looking in a mirror. Okay, I’m rambling. Why don’t you go clean up and I’ll go yell at the bunch of idiots that I sent outside.”

“You’re really weird dude,” Kirk smiles lopsidedly, rolling off of the table on to the floor with a clatter.

Chris hurries back outside before he can say something even more stupid.

* * *

“I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor,” Chris says, his mental balance now restored. “Your aptitude tests are off the charts. So what is it? You like being the only genius level repeat offender in the Midwest?”

“Maybe I love it,” comes the cocky, too-smug reply.

Chris groans silently, but those too familiar blue eyes staring back at him are not going to let him walk away from this one.

Not again.

* * *

As soon as he’s stomped back into his cramped lodgings, Chris collapses on his narrow bunk, shoots a text Comm off to Phil, and then puts a call through to Archer.

“Have you any idea what time it is kid?” the old Admiral grumps as soon as the Comm connects and the Vid feed pops open.

“It’s before midnight Jon, so I know you’ll still be up.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you are calling me at gone eleven at night. What’s up son?”

Chris pauses and takes a second to think about the best way to phrase his next sentence.

“I may have just recruited another problematic,” he starts with slowly. “This one is hyper intelligent and with the right motivation will undoubtedly be very ambitious and a great asset to Starfleet…”

“But?” Archer asks with an arched eyebrow when Chris trails off.

“But he’s also got a bit of a rap sheet, possibly an arrogance problem, possibly an arrogant façade hiding an anxiety problem, and a tendency to pick fights he can’t win that result in him getting his face mashed in.”

“I’m sensing an “and” here Chris.”

“And also he’s James Kirk,” he finishes in a rush.

“Oh fantastic,” Archer deadpans. “The press are going to go nuts. The boy must be in his twenties by now and they still haven’t stopped referring to him as the Kelvin baby.”

“I know,” Chris sighs, rubbing his forehead warily. “And they still drag out that Terrible Tale of Tarsus nonsense every year too. We’re gonna have our work cut out for us with this one.”

“We?” Archer smirks. “I’ll make sure his application is sorted by the time you get back here tomorrow, and that the brass are all prepped to support him through the Academy. But after that, you’re on your own with him kiddo.”

“You’re the worst mentor ever,” Chris groans overly dramatically.

* * *

* * *

“He totally looks like you when you were his age,” Phil continues to insist, waving his pint of beer around for emphasis.

“He really does,” Number One nods stoically.

“None of you even knew me when I was twenty-three,” Chris sighs, staring at his violently purple cocktail morosely. 

“I did,” Archer grunts from the corner, apparently not as asleep as he looks. “And if he grew his hair out, he would be your spitting image.

“Nah, his hair isn’t curly enough,” Caitlin hiccups, “Christo’s goes all flicky when it gets long.”

“Kirk has slightly curly hair too,” Chris admits quietly, still staring at his swirling glass. “Can’t tell until it gets long enough, but it was all wavy when he was climbing on my car when he was two. And April said he had curls when he- on Tarsus IV. He had curls then.”

“Ha! Told you he’s your clone!” Phil grins with drunken triumph. “Blue eyes, blonde, wavy hair, the same cheeky grin. You’re even nearly the same height and your body types are the same.”

“And he definitely has your overly sharp wit and inability to keep his mouth shut,” Number One smirks. “He very loudly told my TA that his interpretation of Glados’ theory was, and I quote, “total wank, you spoon” in my lecture yesterday. And then proceeded to sing some pneumonic rhyme about the root causes of planetary economic instability.”

“I may have been a mouthy git, but at least I wasn’t quite so outright rude,” Chris protests, nearly knocking Number One’s wine glass over.

“Yes you damn well were,” Archer smirks.

“Yes you damn well _are,”_ Cait adds with a gleeful chuckle.

“We are _not_ related,” Chris objects once again. “How on Earth _could_ we be related?”

“Lord if we know,” Phil slurs, “But he really is exactly like an even cheekier mini you.”

* * *

Chris is too drunk at the time to notice, but Archer gives him a series of considering looks as they all stumble out of the bar later that night.

* * *

* * *

Someone’s pounding on their door.

It’s 2am.

“No,” Chris groans into his pillow, hitching the covers up further round his shoulders.

“Please go answer that,” Phil mumbles from beside him, shuffling in annoyance.

“No, sleeping,” he whines unbecomingly. 

“Door Chris. Please baby.”

“I hate you,” he grumbles as a cold foot jabs him in the shin twice.

* * *

“Jim!” Chris exclaims as he hauls the old creaky front door open.

“Hey sooo,” Jim starts with an obvious slur, “I know I promised tha’ I wouldn’t go getting’ into fights no more, but there were these guys and they were pouring beer on my head and then she said that I was a nepotistism- nepotistipitic- nepo-

“Nepotistic,” Chris finishes for him.

“-yeah a nep-o-tis-tic asshole. She said that. That I was one. And then things went downhill.”

“Downhill? After you’d already had a load of beer poured on your head? So what? Did you hit this girl or something?”

“No!” Jim cries indignantly. “No, I walked away like you said I had to! Only then she said I got one dead daddy, ‘n I let my brother die, ‘n then my mommy went and killed herself because I let my brother die, so it was onlyly -only _obvious_ that I was gonna make you end up dead too ‘n that you would deserve it. ‘N I said, no Lady! Chris is great, you leave him alone!”

Chris sighs and scrubs a hand down over his face.

“Okay, okay, come in before you freeze son.”

“And then I _still_ didn’t hit her,” Jim pronounces grandly as he stumbles up the last step and into the hallway, obviously proud of himself. “I just said “Chris is great, you leave him alone!” and then I turned around to leave again and she said I should jus’ stumble on home to my fake-daddy replacement like a good little neposistical baby-”

“Nepotistic,” Chris corrects again, holding back a groan when he sees the amount of blood smeared on the kid’s face and t-shirt.

“- and I kept walking because I ‘member what you said I had to do, and then I got nearly to the door when her friend said I’m not really a Kirk ‘cause you was cheating on my mom with my dad when you were a Cadet.”

“That made literally no sense Jimmy,” Phil yawns tiredly, stumbling down the stairs with his hair in sleepy disarray.

“No wait!” Jim gasps, spinning on the spot with one hand raised. “ _Mom_ was cheating on dad _with you_ when you was a Cadet! You were on the same ship and you beat her up or some rubbish when dad made her dump you.”

“That’s not exactly right son,” Chris says with a wince (and growing panic), steering them both towards the kitchen.

“Well anyway, I said that was nonsense ‘n there’s no way you’re my real dad and that she was just sayin’ that ‘cause she was sad that her own daddy had ditched her.”

Jim pauses suddenly in the doorway, looking contemplative.

“I dunno if that was actually true or not, I jus’ said it ‘cause I was mad and wanted her to shut up but then her friend hit me in the face with a bar stool.”

“Well that sounds painful,” Chris stutters, pushing Jim towards the sink.

“It was!” Jim gasps. “And then when I was trying to get up, she kicked me in the ribs three times and called me a bastard! I crawled away after that and came here.”

“Well how about we get Phil to come over here and fix you up hey?” he says as calmly and gently as he can, willing his hands to stop shaking. 

“Thanks Chris, you really are the best,” Jim mumbles, his head tipping forward to land on Chris’ shoulder.

* * *

As soon as he and Phil have gotten Jim cleaned up and bundled up safe and asleep in their spare room, Chris drags Phil back to their own room in a rush and starts pacing up and down beside their bed anxiously.

“Phil, what if he actually is?” he blurts nonsensically.

“What if he’s actually what honey?” comes the confused reply.

“My son!”

Phil looks at him with a vaguely amused but mostly worried expression.

“I mean it Phil, he genuinely could be!”

“I’m really not following Chris. I mean, I know we all joke he looks like you a lot, but…”

“No no, listen! According to his records, he was born a month premature right? It’s written down as being induced by the stress of the Kelvin incident. But nearly exactly nine and half months before that, I got possessed and blacked out and remember nothing. All I know is that I attacked Winona Kirk and that she refused to have anything to do with me after that. Phil, _Jim Kirk looks exactly like me.”_

“But he also looks like George Kirk,” Phil points out. But he too sounds unsure.

“Superficially yes, but George Kirk senior and I both had blue eyes and blonde hair. And so did Winona. How the hell would anyone know that Jim was mine instead of Kirk’s just by looking at him!? Oh god, what if I unknowingly raped Winona Kirk!”

“Baby, baby, I need you to calm down,” Phil suddenly says calmly, moving slowly towards him. “We can talk to Jim tomorrow when you’ve both slept and you’ve had time to process. If both of you want to, we can go do some tests and then you can decide together what to do from there.”

“Phil. Phil. Phil, I need to-!”

“Christopher, you need to breathe. Look at me, deep breaths.”

“I need to go check on him again,” he says shakily, gripping to Phil’s forearms and trying to force oxygen into his lungs. “He might be my son, I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Alright, we can go do that. Okay? We can go now look, he’s just across the landing from us.”

“Please,” Chris begs, his knees feeling weaker by the second.

* * *

“Do you want me to come sit with you while you talk to him, or shall I go call Archer for you and get him up to speed?” Phil asks quietly, as they both watch Jim sleepily shuffle about their kitchen with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a small tea spoon in the other.

“I should- I should talk to him myself first, and then check he’s okay with Archer knowing before we say anything.”

“That’s fine jellybean. I’m going to take my coffee into the study and you sit him down at the kitchen table. If you need me or even _want_ me at any second, you just call me and I will be right there.”

“Can you not do that?” he asks, suddenly irritated. “Be all super over helpful and supportive. I’m a little in shock yes, but I’m not about to break.”

Phil just looks at him with an unreadable expression, before smiling and dropping a kiss to his brow.

“Yeah yeah, you’re a grown ass man who doesn’t need coddling,” he chuckles. “Now go talk to your kid.”

“He might not be my kid you know. We need to check first. Do some tests, check some details.”

“Chris love, honestly. By blood or not, that boy is your kid already. Now go, stop putting it off.”

“And you wonder why I keep sarcastically calling you _mom_ Philip J. Boyce.”

* * *

“Jim, I think we need to talk.”

“I _swear_ I tried to avoid a fight, I promise! I know I shouldn’t have been that drunk when I was out alone, but I just needed to blow off some steam after-”

“Jim, I don’t mean about last night,” he says as gravely as he can. “Please, just- take a seat and let me tell you a few things.”

Jim stops shuffling instantly and sits down with a wary look.

“What’s this about,” he says slowly, cautiously.

Chris stares at the scarred surface of the table and wonders where the hell to begin.

* * *

Jim is staring at the wall blankly, and Chris has no idea whether to reach out reassuringly or whether to keep his hands to himself. 

“I’m going for a walk,” the kid says suddenly, shoving the chair back and standing in one swift movement. 

Before Chris can even gather his thoughts, Jim is slamming the front door behind him.

* * *

_[im outside Medical w/ Bones. Pls come]_

_[Is it okay if I bring Phil with me?]_

_[yeah sure]  
[see you in 5?]_

_[10. Phil is only half dressed and arguing with a pair of jeans that he swears fit him last week.]  
[Eventually he’s going to realise they’re actually my jeans.]_

_[lol @ my dumbass stepdad]  
[c u in 10 then] _

* * *

“You’re shaking again dear.”

“I’m about to find out if I’m a father,” Chris hisses back, peering down the corridor anxiously, praying that nobody is within hearing distance.

“Oh look on the bright side, Jim actually seems quite pleased by the possibility that you’re directly related.”

“Well he shouldn’t be! I can’t exactly live up to the legend of George Kirk!”

Chris falls silent after his sudden outburst and nervously peers towards the door of the examining room where Jim and Leonard are running old fashioned blood tests: old fashioned so that they can avoid logging the results in the system.

“Personal opinion that Jim probably shares, but a living breathing Chris Pike is much better than the distant ghost of a man you never met but are constantly compared too.”

“What if he’s not mine? After all this, what if George really is his father?”

“Then things carry on just as they have been and it’s no big deal. Half of the brass think you should adopt him anyway, and most of the other half have only discarded that idea because they worry they’d be insulting George and Winona’s memory somehow.”

“Are we gonna talk about the repercussions if he _is_ my boy? The press will have a field day when they inevitably find out how he was probably conceived. It’s bad enough just knowing what I must have done myself.”

“I’m going to say this once, and I’m going to say this now,” Phil says sternly, turning to face him. “You were unconscious and you were not in charge of your own body. You had absolutely no free will and were completely unaware of what was happening. _You. Are. Not. To. Blame._ You consented no more than Winona Kirk did. The only party responsible for anything was the being or entity that took control of you without your permission. Do you understand?”

“Easier to say than to believe it,” Chris grumbles uncomfortably. “I know I scarred Winona Kirk for life regardless of my willingness. I couldn’t go near her without her freaking out, though I didn’t know exactly why until now.”

“It wasn’t your fault honey, no matter what did or didn’t happen to Winona Kirk,” Phil breathes into his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

* * *

The door slides open before them and Jim steps out with a nervous expression and last night's bruises still discolouring his face. He shuffles on the spot and fiddles with the Medical data PADD that he's got clenched tightly in one hand.

“Twelve minutes and 800 hundred lives huh? Do I still have to do better if he and I are not related?”

Chris ungainly slides down the wall to sit sprawled on the floor.

“No, I think we can less that one pass,” he says faintly, staring up into the crystal blue eyes of his son.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like, I ummed and ahhed for ages over the believability certain parts of this, and then went with the "screw it, its my story" philosophy and just wrote what I wanted to lol ;)

“I have got absolutely no idea what I’m doing,” Chris says tiredly to Archer, swigging from his plastic coffee cup in the staff room in Medical.

“You and every other new parent on the planet,” the Admiral smirks.

“You are entirely unhelpful old man.”

* * *

Jim is pacing around their front room again.

“So are we like, telling people?” he blurts, swivelling towards where he’s leaning on Phil’s shoulder by the kitchen door.

“Do you want to tell people?” Chris rumbles back. 

“Well yes, but I don’t want people to give you any flack,” Jim stresses, pulling his hair back through his fingers harshly. “I mean, there’s already too many people who say shit like “you’re only here because of your last name blah blah blah”. If I tell everyone I’m not actually a Kirk…”

He trails off with a frustrated grunt and resumes pacing back and forth.

“Just tell the people who you care about knowing Jimmy,” Phil inputs, shuffling to put one arm over Chris’ shoulders. “And let us deal with any fallout if it comes to that.”

“They’re gonna say that we both knew all along and just used the Kirk name to our advantage,” Jim grumbles. 

“You know what?” Chris mutters, his own frustration growing. “I’m increasingly not caring what other people may or may not think. So long as they leave you the hell alone, they can spout as much bullshit as they like.”

“They’re not gonna leave either of us the hell alone though,” Jim sighs.

“Jim, you’re a cadet,” Phil points out. “The Academy staff and the Admiralty are obligated to protect you. We told Jonathan Archer and he said he will support you whatever you decide, so just do what your heart is telling you is right and let us handle the rest.”

“But that’s not fair on you!” Jim protests. “You shouldn’t have to shield me.”

“James Tiberius, I am your father and therefore I will shield you as much as I like. It’s my both my obligation and my right as your parent to be there for you, and damn if I don’t want to use that right.”

Jim has stopped again and is now staring at him slightly wide eyed.

“I err- You really don’t have to. Dad. Can I call you dad? Okay, that felt weird, I may just stick to Chris for now.”

“You can call me what you like son,” Chris smirks, “So long as it’s no more than only a little insulting.”

“Right,” he says absently, his eyes defocusing suddenly. “So back to the topic at hand. What about my name? Should I change my surname?”

“Do you want to?” Chris asks slowly, not sure why he suddenly feels even more nervous.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Jim sighs, finally dropping to sit on the couch against the back wall. “I feel like I should be attached to the name Kirk because of how its shaped my life. But- I don’t know. Its caused me more grief than anything else.” 

He huffs in frustration, and flops sideways and twists until he’s lying on his back with his knees hooked over the couch arm. He throws one arm over his eyes and the other he lets dangle, fingertips trailing on the edge of the rug.

“God, I never thought I’d say this,” he mutters lowly, “But life was a lot less frustrating yesterday when all I had to deal with was failing the Kobayashi Maru for the second time.”

“Yeah well, I failed it too,” Chris shrugs, moving to perch on the edge of the couch by Jim’s head. “And so has every single person who’s ever taken it.”

“I don’t believe in no win scenarios,” Jim mutters monotonously. “You always say that my dad- I mean George Kirk, that he was the one with that attitude. But I think you believe it too right? I always associated the saying more with you that him anyway.”

“Well I don’t know,” Chris smiles, oddly touched. “I think you’re a tad better at being a stubborn ass in the face of unsurmountable odds than I have ever been, so how about we just make it a Jim thing rather than a Kirk or Pike thing?”

“This is not solving the issue of my last name,” Jim grumbles, turning once more to peer up at him.

“Hyphenate?” Phil suggests from the kitchen as he starts pulling pans out of cupboards and generally banging around.

“I’ll think about it,” Jim mutters, closing his eyes.

* * *

* * *

“Answer the question Captain,” Marcus orders sternly.

“No, I was not aware in any capacity that James T. Kirk is my son,” Chris repeats for the fourth time in the last hour.

“And you maintain that you were absolutely unaware of what happened during the proceeding of what is known as the Theta Incident?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“You had no idea that you sexually assaulted a fellow officer?”

“I stepped into the cave, following the rest of the landing party as I was ordered too. Then all I remember a lot of pain, darkness and a small amount of unintelligible shouting. The next thing I know, I woke up in agony in Medbay with then-Captain Morgguue dictating a Captain’s log beside my biobed.”

“But you have no memory of any events between entering the cave and regaining consciousness in the Medbay of the Tanebar?”

“No sir, I do not.”

Behind his back, he grips his hands a little tighter together, and prays this damn interrogation ends soon.

* * *

Phil is waiting for him when he finally stumbles out of the board room nearly eight hours later.

“Well?” he asks gently, slipping an arm around his waist.

“They believe me,” he sighs in relief. “Doctor Horta created extensive medical notes on my condition at the time. Thankfully for me, he firmly states that my memory would undoubtedly be impaired long before I woke up. All the medical evidence is there to back his conclusion, so I’m in the clear.”

“Told you it would be fine,” Phil smiles. “Now let’s go find your boy.”

* * *

* * *

“What happened?” Chris hears Phil demand as soon as he answers the door.

“Some douchebag by the name of Finnegan happened,” Leonard growls. “He’s a damn Ensign on shore leave while the ship he’s posted to is docked for repairs.”

“What the hell does he have against Jim?” Phil asks incredulously. Chris is on his feet and stomping down the stairs before Phil has finished his sentence.

“He-he was a-an Upperclassman whe-when I was a Plebe,” Jim chatters, soaking wet through and shaking with cold. “Ha-hated my g-guts.”

“Jim tested into the advanced hand-hand class straight away,” Chris fills in, bitterly remembering all the hell that damn Irish kid had caused two years ago. “Finnegan was top of the class and he didn’t like being shown up by Jim.”

“Oh, the chronic prankster you couldn’t catch red handed?” Phil asks, helping Leonard strip Jim’s sodden clothes off.

“Smarmy arrogant twat of a bully,” Chris growls as he turns to jog back upstairs to grab some towels and warm blankets.

“Well the bastard pushed Jim into the fountain outside of the City library,” Leonard bites out. “That damn water was near-iced over and it took me nearly a whole minute to haul him out.”

“Said- said I didn’t deserve the K-Kirk name, ‘n that I de-deserve your n-name even less.”

“Outside the public library you say?” Chris asks nonchalantly, as he hooks the fluffiest towel he could find over his son’s shoulders and bundles him up. “I bet Archer would be thrilled to take a peek at their security footage.”

* * *

“What happened?” Chris hears Phil demand as soon as he answers the door

“Cadet by the name of Kingrose threw a bucket of slug things over my head.”

“Wait I know Kingrose!” Chris exclaims, peering out of the kitchen. “She’s a top navigator and was in my History lectures last semester. Good kid if a little odd. Always had a billion questions to ask at the end of a lecture.”

“Yeah, because she’s got a huge crush on you,” Jim grumbles, rolling his eyes. “And apparently its unfair I get to be so close to you.”

“Stop scratching at the welts,” Phil scolds. “Chris go Comm Archer again.”

“She’s got a crush on me?” Chris muses, rather bemused by the idea. “Huh, I usually notice when Cadets and juniors start shooting me love eyes.”

“Not helping dear,” Phil sighs, waving him off.

* * *

“Oh for god sake, what happened?” Chris hears Phil demand as soon as he answers the door.

“Erm. Yes.”

Chris looks into the hallway again and his eyebrows raise into hairline.

“Is that cursive? That’s some neat handwriting,” he chuckles as he goes to Comm Archer _yet again._

“You laugh now, but wait until you see what’s written all over your office door and the jacket you left inside,” Jim snips back, rubbing at the ink staining his forehead.

* * *

* * *

Chris stares down at the notification he’s just received with no-little shock.

_[J.T. Kirk to take Kobayashi Maru examination at 1100 hours on Monday April 13th. Attempt number: three. Your presence is requested on the viewing platform throughout]_

“How the hell did you swing that kid?” Chris mutters quietly to himself.

* * *

“You’re going to what?” Chris hisses, angry despite his promise that he wouldn’t be.

“I’m going to hack it and change the test parameters,” Jim snarls back, that little crease between his eyebrows an exact mirror of the one between his own.

“Are you insane!?” he growls. “You think I’m gonna let you do that and get yourself expelled!?”

“Yes! And you’re going to help me and here’s why!”

* * *

“I am going to lose my Chair, I am going to lose my Chair and my new ship and my crew and _all_ my respect,” Chris mutters to himself as he watches Jim slide underneath the program module and clip a dongle between two wires. “Are you done kid? Anyone could walk in on us at any second!”

“Relax dad, I set up a perimeter alert. Your PADD will buzz constantly if anyone comes in the building.”

“This is insane, and I am insane for letting you do this.”

* * *

Chris stands awkwardly on the balcony above the simulation centre next to Spock.

“He is your kin?” the Vulcan asks neutrally.

“He’s my boy yeah,” Chris replies gruffly.

“He has somehow tampered with the test. I programmed it to be unwinnable. Therefore he has undoubtedly cheated.”

“Nah Spock,” Chris smiles, watching Bones hug a grinning Jim below. “He just …bent the rules a little to make things better for everyone.”

“Regardless, I am obliged to report him for Academic Misconduct. And as I suspect you aware of the mechanism he utilised to achieve his goals, I fear I may have to disclose your name to the academic council too.”

Chris cocks his head sideways, smiling back when Jim glances up at him through the glass.

“Well, you do what you feel you must Commander. But perhaps I may suggest you look up the term “loyalty” in a human dictionary first.”

Spock looks at him levelly, his face even more unreadable than usual.

“You doubt my loyalty to you as my Commanding officer,” he states neutrally.

“No,” Chris breathes, “No I just want you to understand why I did what I did for Jim. He’s my son and I will throw the entire rulebook out of the window for him, even when I probably shouldn’t.”

“I will… consider this.”

Chris watches Spock walk away and down the stairs without the least bit of regret.

* * *

* * *

“This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter. James T. Kirk and Christopher Pike step forward.”

“What the hell?” Phil hisses next to his ear once Barnett has finished speaking. “This is a Cadet Academic hearing, they can’t call you up too.”

“Leave it,” he mutters back, standing and walking towards the podium. 

“Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council, suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation One-Seven point three of the Starfleet Code, with assistance from Captain Pike. Is there anything you care to say before we begin, sir?”

“Yes, I believe we have the right to face our accuser directly.” Jim declares loudly. And then, considerably more quietly to Chris, “Why the fuck are you up here too?”

“Beats me son.”

“Wait, isn’t that your First Officer?”

“Commander Spock,” Chris greets once the Vulcan has stepped behind the other podium. Spock, to Chris’ increasingly practiced eye, looks vaguely guilty.

“This is Commander Spock,” Admiral Barnett continues, “He's one of our most distinguished graduates. He's programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years. Commander?”

Spock just looks at them in silence.

“Commander?” Barnett prompts as the awkwardness stretches.

“The Cadet installed and activated a subroutine in the programming routine, thereby changing the conditions of the test.”

Spock blurts it so suddenly, Chris wonders how anyone could ever doubt his half-human heritage.

“Yeah? And?” Chris replies with a stern look.

“To use technical academic vernacular, such actions could be considered cheating.”

“Could be, but shouldn’t be,” Chris says loudly, clapping his hand down on Jim’s shoulder before his boy can open his own mouth. “We’re both well aware that he understood the principle lesson of the test anyway, which is exactly why he chose to circumvent it; to prove that giving up shouldn’t be an option. So why are you and the Board making such a big deal?”

“The principle lesson was to experience fear, fear in the face or certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain as you are well aware Captain Pike. And yet, you seemingly aided the Cadet in ensuring that lesson was ignored.”

“I already know how to stare in the face of death Commander,” Jim scowls. “The difference is, I’ve been doing it long it enough to work out how to laugh in its face and do my damnedest to save everyone anyway. Unlike most Cadets, this was not my first rodeo.”

“Which precisely why I asked the charges be dropped,” Spock blinks. “Yet my request was denied.”

Chris frowns and looks between Jim and Spock, the former of which looks as shocked as he feels.

“Then I don’t understand why we’ve been-”

The aide scurries up to Barnett with a stressed out look, and Jim’s mouth clamps shut as the emergency call to Vulcan is announced.

* * *

“Jim son, we have a problem.”

“What?

“All current Earth-based officers and I just got a generic automated Comm stating that you are grounded until the Academy board rules.”

“Ah shit.”

“Oh look, I conveniently just wiped all trace that I ever received such a message. Come on, let’s get you on a shuttle with Bones before anyone else can complain. I’ll meet you on the Bridge in half an hour.”

* * *

_[where the hell are you!? We’re about to leave space dock Phil!]_

_[I’m stuck at the motherfucking Medical Clinic. I just came to grab the damn photoreplictor so that you’re not warping into a Vulcan crisis without a way to repair Vulcan epidermic eyelid tissue. It’s now on a shuttle but I’m not!]_

_[You have two minutes to get to a transporter Pad and get up here]_

_[not gonna make it. Advance Puri temporarily and I’ll get the next ship out. Love you xx]_

_[ :’( xxx]_

* * *

* * *

He’s cold and wet and-

_His head swims in the darkness and all he is aware of is that there is pain._

_He screams, but no-one can hear him from inside his own mind._

* * *

_Jim! Jim! Jim!_

Impossibly, Jim is undoing the straps holding him down.

“What are you doing here?”

_Oh god Jim, get me out of here, get me out of here, please please please please plea-_

“Just following orders Dad.”

_Oh god Jim, get me out of here, get me out of here-_

He tries to smile back, but all he can manage is a weak grimace.

Instead, he shoots down the Romulan’s with Jim’s phaser and hopes that is thanks enough.

* * *

* * *

He wakes slowly, and stares at a scorched patch on the ceiling above him.

He wonders why it’s scorched.

Something rustles nearby, and he forces his neck to turn despite the dull aching throb.

Jim is sat in one of those hard plastic chairs next to him, head down on the edge of the bed, breathing slow and rhythmic, and his whole body slack with undisguised exhaustion.

There’s a ring of bruises around his neck and bandages wound round his hands and chest, visible under his tatty and torn black undershirt.

“What happened kid?” he mutters, his voice dry, harsh and sore. “What happened to you my Jimmy?”

Jim remains asleep, and Chris slowly threads a shaking hand through the back of his hair before he loses the battle to keep his own eyes open.

* * *

“You’re gonna need total myelin sheath regeneration between your C3 and C4 vertebrae, and extensive work done in your L vertebrae region.”

“Righhht,” Chris drawls slowly, oddly not feeling too bad aside from the total lack of sensation from the waist down. Probably because of the number of drugs currently in his system. “But I want to know how Jim is.”

“He’s on the bridge watching a bunch of Admirals argue amongst themselves again. They have a habit of forgetting he’s there and going off on all sorts of tangents. I hear Sulu and Chekov have started a betting pool on how much classified information they can accidently overhear.”

“But how is he Leonard?”

“Better than you are right now, so let’s just concentrate on you okay?”

“Better than me is not saying much. _How is my boy doing Doctor!?”_

Bones sighs and puts down the scanner he was running over Chris’ chest.

“He got into a fight with Spock on bridge; neither of them actually outright said it, but it was clearly over you. Spock eventually lost his shit and accused Jim of mutiny, and Jim got marooned on a nearby ice ball as a consequence. Then _I_ lost my shit with Spock and nearly ended up in the Brigg for it. _Then_ somehow Jim got back onto the ship with some crazy Scottish Engineer in tow -don’t ask me how, no-one’s explained it to me yet. And following that piece of crazy, Spock and Jim got into _another_ fight on the bridge and Spock nearly strangled Jim to death.”

Chris stares at Leonard wide eyed and entirely confused.

“Then suddenly they were friends,” Bones barrels onwards, “Jim and Spock beamed over to the Romulan ship to go and get you. Spock somehow blew up Romulan ship up with a tiny ship from the future, while Jim reappeared with even more bruises and carrying you over one shoulder. Then we accidently made a black hole and then escaped by blowing our warp engines up, and I summarily have decided to pretend none of this ever happened and to just concentrate on removing that _thing_ from your spine instead. So if you’d like to let me do that, I’d be very grateful sir.”

“Spock nearly strangled Jim to death?” Chris blurts out after several long seconds.

“I knew you were gonna fixate on that part,” Leonard mutters with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

_[isolation suspension chamber is boring and uncomfortable. Please write me a sick note so I can go home.]_

_[I know you’re not a fan of zero G teddy bear, but Leonard has got to keep that slug thing immobile and this is his only option.]_

_[They gave me the good drugs and now I can see all of Jim’s rainbows.]_

_[Yes you told me this earlier baby, but I’ll let Leonard know you’re seeing things again.]_

_[when are you gonna get here? this isolation chamber is boring and uncomfortable]_

_[Another 3 days. Remember to tell Leonard or Jim if the pain starts coming back]_

_[booooo. You’re really cute and I want you here now. Jim says I have to say hello?]_

_[Is he there now?]_

_[he’s doing barrel rolls because my son is awesome. Hold up, I need to tell him he’s awesome]_

_[you’re adorable when you’re high xx]_

* * *

* * *

Archer is sat by his bedside frowning.

“I was screaming again wasn’t I,” Chris mutters, rolling his shoulders until they crack.

“I have to admit, it’s a little disconcerting watching someone withstand that much pain. I can’t believe you don’t pass out immediately.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t usually remember afterwards. How long now?”

“Twenty-two days since the Enterprise crawled into space dock. Oh, and speaking of forgetting things, your father is outside demanding to know why you thought you could get away with not taking Jim to see him before now. He’s also singing old Seasick Steve songs and telling your son about the “majestic” qualities of two string guitars.”

Chris’ heart swells happily at the imagined image of his Dad and his son sat, heads bowed together, whispering over god knows what. He wants to ask Archer to send them both in, but he can feel his limbs sinking back into the stimulation mattress again already. 

So he just grins happily and lets his eyes slide shut once more.

* * *

* * *

“Dad. Dad. Hey wake up, I need you to sign these forms.”

“Hmmm?” He mumbles, cracking one gummy eyelid open.

“Forms. I need your signature and thumbprint.”

“’K,” he mutters, grasping the stylus weakly and then sliding his thumb over the bottom of the screen. “Wa’s it for Jim?” he asks through a yawn.

“They’re just personal registration documents. Don’t worry about it and go back to sleep.”

* * *

Chris doesn’t know why he always finds important things out through news articles, but he’s sat up in his bed, happily wiggling his toes and revelling in the small movement when Phil hands him a PADD.

_FAMOUS CAPTAIN ANNOUNCES NAME CHANGE_

_“It was time,” Pike Jr announced this morning. “I’ve known for nine months, and now felt like the right time to do this. I loved my mom with all my heart, but we- we were never that close. She went through phases where she wouldn’t let me out of her sight, but normally… She knew. She knew I wasn’t George Kirk’s and that created a distance between us, though I never knew why until now. What I have now, this revelation I’ve been gifted with? This close-knit family? It’s what George Kirk would have wanted for me, it’s what my brother definitely wanted for me. So on the advice of those close to my heart, I’m going to reach out and take this opportunity with both hands._

_“My name is James Tiberius Pike, and I am proud to follow in my father’s footsteps and be the second Pike to Captain the USS Enterprise.”_

Phil smiles affectionately back at him, and leans over to tenderly wipe away his tears.

“That’s my boy,” Chris whispers into the silence of the room.


End file.
